


Adiós

by Mother_North



Series: Heartache [2]
Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: 2017-2018 Season, Angst, Desire, Drama, Emotional Infidelity, Heartbreak, M/M, Psychology, Rivalry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-26
Updated: 2018-03-26
Packaged: 2019-04-08 13:45:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14106675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mother_North/pseuds/Mother_North
Summary: “I can’t do it without you.”Javier hated that particular “it” with passion.





	Adiós

**Author's Note:**

> Author is trying to erase from memory events of the men’s free skate at this World Championships desperately. One of the coping mechanisms backfired for unknown reasons, resulting in this fic. It turned out pretty angsty. Also, mention of emotional infidelity and heartbreak were thrown into this messy mix. Rated “M” mostly to be safe.  
> Usual RPF disclaimer applies to this work of fiction in full and it is not meant to offend anyone.

**

Javier closes the door of his previously rented condo in Toronto and takes a step away. A step away not only from the place that served him as home for the past several years but from _the life_ he led there itself. Effie mewling once in his embrace pitifully as he pulled her closer to his chest, taking his beloved cat with him to introduce into a new  — no, actually  — on the contrary, _old_ and _the truest_ of homes he has ever had, the one in which he spent his childhood with his parents and his sister Laura. His family, his native country, his _la casa_ are waiting for his return in a single plane flight across the ocean, yet he can’t rejoice with all of his heart, a thorn of bitterness piercing it. It feels strange and paradoxical: relief of finally having achieved what he was aiming for and of being completely free now, a tiring burden of nerve-wrecking and highly demanding competitive career no longer weighing on his shoulders, mixing itself with something indescribably poignant in his chest. He was at the threshold of a new life; of course, there would be skating in it, as it was and would always remain an integral part of him — some highly entertaining shows and pure fun of reinventing himself on the ice once again as a new character to embody or, maybe, even coaching with ever present sense of gratitude and acknowledgement of him by his _far from skating_ homeland and its proud citizens…

Yet, can he say that it is truly _enough_?

Javier was trying to find an answer to this question for the last couple of weeks and it kept on changing constantly, throwing him into a nauseating bout of insecurity and doubts. He opened his eyes in the morning and it was a firm _yes_ , he closed them at night and it turned into a fey _no_. Javier was keenly aware of _who_ exactly was serving as a root of such a conflict inside of him. For years he was trying to ignore it, for years he was doing his best to keep it buried deep within, so it would never see the light of the day, stubbornly avoiding to face his real feelings openly. It was confusing at first and then it became plainly torturous: looking at _him_ every day, having a possibility to touch freely but never having an opportunity of telling him that it was all _not enough and it had never been_ — far from it, to tell the truth.

_Forbidden fruit is the sweetest._

The prospect of being devoid completely of his presence, of being cut off from his _light_ was painful and scary. Javier felt a pang of _foolish_ longing he learned to despise so much spiking him all over again, filling him with helpless hollowness. He kept on repeating to himself that there was a beautiful young girl with raven hair and a sunny smile waiting for him in his home city, her tender hands always caring and her lips reminding him of chili peppers because of their biting passion. She was warm and earthly, her embrace sincere and loving. Then, why he kept on dreaming of something never meant to be, of something he could never make _his,_ no matter how much he was willing to — of pomegranate succulent lips, perfect porcelain skin and pitch-black eyes of scorching intensity. It felt profoundly wrong, yet his gnawing desire didn’t want to let go of him, its onslaught intoxicating and making his sleepless nights haunted with carnal visions. He managed to hide his guilt at the bottom of his eyes each time he was looking into those two impossibly dark almond-shaped orbs, which were sucking his reason and resistance out of him like two black holes. He was gravitating towards him irresistibly, his past self and future life threatened because of his reproachful want of his training partner, colleague and foremost _rival_. It was just as irrational as it was engulfing.

Javier knew he had no other choice than fighting it, not wanting to take responsibility for potentially ruining both of their lives and reputations, yet feeling like a coward running away from his _true_ self all the same.        

After getting a cab to take him to Toronto Pearson International Airport, Javier was staring at the streets flying by through the car window, Effie surprisingly calm at his lap, her warmth undeniably comforting.     

Somewhere deep down Javier realized acutely that the time to turn the page has come, the certainty of the notion lying heavily near his aching heart. It’s the time to have a clearer look at the new horizons spread in front of him, the time to stop clinging to this unhealthy pull of his, conquering it once and for good.

There was only one person, except himself, in the whole wide world that knew of the storm raging inside of him — a fatherly and dear figure, who was always ready to listen and what seemed even more important— simply _understand_ , without an ounce of pretense or unfair prejudice. Brian’s sincere concern for both of his disciples made Javier tell him about his secret feelings for Yuzuru during one of their nightly heart-to-heart conversations after a glass of amber whiskey: words slipping out of him in a moment of raw vulnerability, after a draining competition, alcohol and adrenaline making his tongue loose. A shameful confession poured out of him as if through a broken dam in a torrent of things Javier found himself blushing at right now.

Brian was listening to him without interrupting, his face strained and stunned. Javier was telling him how he often had hard time battling his urge to just push Yuzuru against the nearest wall and taste his lips in a desperate kiss, holding him in his arms with bruising force, or of a heady rush to just bend the younger man over the couch armrest in half and _fuck_ him senseless. Javier remembered how he poured himself one more glass of potent drink before continuing that his night dreams were plagued with Yuzuru’s wriggling and moaning delicate form _beneath_ and _above_ him, while he himself was always _inside_ , claiming the beautiful Japanese in the most basic and obscene of ways imaginable. Javier concluded his revelatory speech with a slurred declaration that he was _completely straight_ , his cheeks burning even more from a sudden realization of how totally ridiculous and, perhaps, even insulting to Brian this ill-thought-out and redundant remark must have sounded. He wanted to start apologizing already, a long silence hanging between the two of them like a suffocating cloak, when Brian raised his arm in a warning gesture, seemingly managing to get himself together.

“Do you intend on telling him about your… feelings?”

Javier’s reply came faster than a bullet.

“No way! _Nunca*_!”

An exasperated sigh escaped Brian as he shook his head, his facial expression unreadable, yet, there was one thing Javier was absolutely sure of, there was no trace of censure or condescension on the older man’s face — only heartfelt concern for which he found himself being immensely grateful. He laid his soul bare that night, not being able to hold everything inside a moment longer, needing someone beside him sharing his burden, taking a glimpse into an abyss of his emotional turmoil, providing him a much sought-after understanding and solace.

“I see…Though, personally, I can’t comprehend why you are so scared now. It’s been torturing you for years already and you keep on running away from it, without even giving it a shot. Maybe, you should take a closer look at the way Yuzuru is reacting to you, at the way his eyes sometimes linger at you with a kind of fond fascination. It’s not only about _quad sal_ , believe my experience, Javi. I can’t know for sure and I still haven’t managed to figure Yuzuru out in all of his complexity personality-wise but…He doesn’t seem as someone _close-minded_ and _timid_ to constantly escape his true identity and feelings, in case, there are some. Maybe, you should talk to him one day, albeit in kid gloves. I can’t believe the extent of cloistered anguish you had to endure through all of these years and I am truly proud that you have found strength to tell me, at last. I want all of the best for both of you and, although, the situation looks quite complicated it’s not as nearly dreadful as you tend to paint it in your own head, Javier…”

Javi was pulled out of his reflections as he felt Effie shifting at his lap, her sharp little claws digging into his hand slightly. As if she could sense her master’s inner distress somehow. Javier scratched behind her ear reassuringly, his gaze becoming glassy again and him not even noticing that the car wasn’t moving anymore, being stuck in a morning traffic jam.

He recalled _that day_ in all of its vividness.

The practice session was remarkably good, hot summer breath not being able to permeate into the cold tranquility of the skating-ring. Yuzuru appeared to be in high spirits, exceptionally driven and determined — quadruple Lutz – triple toe with hands above his head being a thing of true beauty. Javier applauded his effort and the Japanese shot him a charmingly boyish smile, which made Javier’s heart skip a beat. Abounding  tension and nervousness of the impending Olympic season miraculously dissipated between the two of them for that day, as Javier found himself chasing Yuzuru across the skating rink just like good old times. His hands encircled the younger man’s tiny waist and he indulged himself in his melodious giggles. Javier offered Yuzuru to come to his apartment in the evening, saying that he needed him for a friendly round of virtual monster-hunting. After several dragging minutes of hesitation, Yuzuru agreed to Javier’s relief. It was not the first time he had accepted his invitation but they just haven’t done it in a long time — _since Shanghai_ , to be exact.

Javier cleaned up his whole apartment for the occasion and even bought Yuzuru his most favourite strawberry shortcake, whipped cream melting from the street heat on his way from the store. He combed Effie’s fur and set the table for two in the spacious living-room: some grapes and sliced oranges, a set of sushi from the best downtown restaurant, ice-cold green _matcha_ for Yuzuru and a minty refreshing _mojito_ for himself.

Yuzuru came with a pedantic punctuality — right on time, wearing a plain white t-shirt and his usual track pants, his long neck adorned with a couple of indispensible necklaces , delicacy of his wrists highlighted with beady bracelets. Javier caught himself thinking that he desperately wanted to see Yuzuru with _nothing_ but those jewelry items on. Yuzuru’s cheeks were turning pink swiftly under the Spaniard’s heated gazes as they started their small supper. Javier noticed the way Yuzuru was chattering nervously, seemingly forgetting about the food and his lack of English skills, struggling to discharge the palpable tension stuffing the air between them. He showed Javier some photos of Gangneung ice-arena on his mobile, leaning in close, letting Javier catch a faint smell of vanilla his slightly moist skin was emanating. Javier’s fingers closed around one of the young man’s wrists firmly, as he heard Yuzuru inhaling sharply, his eyes suddenly reluctant to meet Javier’s at all costs.

“Yuzu…”

The Spaniard’s voice sounded husky and it scorched Yuzuru’s neck like an August hot wind. Javier wanted to explain, wanted to find the right words like Brian had told him — yet, his mind was hazy from the proximity of Yuzuru’s cupid-bow lips, which the Japanese kept on worrying with his pearly teeth.

“ _Yuzu_ …”

Nothing more than a mere breathless moan.

The next moment Javier was kissing him with all of the might of his long-suppressed desire, his mind floating detached from his body, which was pressing Yuzuru into the couch hard. His insistent tongue was attacking Yuzuru’s gasping mouth with desperate urgency. Javier was high on _his_ taste and his own recklessness, one of his hands sliding to stay at the back of Yuzuru’s head to hold him in place as he just couldn’t get enough. He felt like a traveller dying of thirst and suddenly finding a heavenly oasis amidst the desolated wilderness, pure delight circulating in his body like an electrical current. Javier was ready to sell his soul for pleasure like this, loosing himself without a remnant in the heat of the moment, inevitable ending of which, was dreading him, making his chest constrict.

“ _Por favor_ **…”

Javier’s delirious whispers were lost somewhere between hungry kisses, his demanding lips savoring the tenderness of Yuzuru’s pale neck, tongue tracing irritating  thin necklaces which he wanted to tear off badly.

“Javi don’t…Please, stop! _Stop now_!”

A pair of deceptively weak arms pushed Javier away with considerable force — his soaring essence crashing against the hard ground of reality in the cruelest of ways. Yuzuru’s face was flushed, his chest heaving indignantly and his abused lips trembling. He looked visibly shaken.

“We can’t Javi. We _can’t_ …”

“But you want it too..? Please, tell me, Yuzu. I beg you.”

Javier grabbed Yuzuru’s long fingers and clenched them painfully, a needy plea written all over his agitated face and his eyes darkening from inextricable yearning.

“No. _No!_ We can’t. We can’t… We need to concentrate. To focus. Very important, Javi. Olympics…”

 _Of course._ How could he possibly be foolish enough to think that Yuzuru wanted him more than his potential second consecutive golden medal..?

Javier thought he heard something shattering deep inside of him, his shoulders deflating as his senses started to return to him slowly, a wave of his blinding want fully subsided. A broken smile twisted his stinging lips.

“Fine. I guess you are right, Yuzu. We should chase our dreams, shouldn’t we?”

In fact, he has just failed miserably at making one of his dreams come true and now this daring attempt seemed foolish and doomed from the very start, Javier’s inner voice nagging him with growing guilt.

“Let’s just forget about it, ok?”

Yuzuru nodded in agreement a couple of times: his small polite bows never looking shallower to Javier. After apologizing and locking himself securely inside his impenetrable shell once again, Yuzuru left without saying a single word. Javier was staring at their abandoned supper blankly, a sudden surge of coldness making him shiver involuntarily.  

He drank the remaining rum in one burning gulp and closed his eyes tightly, willing his racing heart to calm down. He was feeling lost but he would be strong enough to keep on striving, he would be strong enough to keep on fighting, he would be strong enough to keep on getting that blasted medal…He would be strong enough not to lose himself to Yuzuru — _in_ _Yuzuru,_ for that matter.

Perhaps, Javier did lose his _love_ to the damned ice but he wouldn’t lose once again. Not anymore. Not in PyeongChang. He will be on the podium, his gravely determination and fiery desire to accept an ultimate challenge lit anew inside his scarred soul.

**

“I can’t do it without you.”

Javier hated _that particular_ “ _it”_ with passion.

His heart was throbbing painfully, as he was shielding sobbing Yuzuru from the prying eyes of the audience and the whole outside world. He wanted to treasure this moment, pretending that they still had a mutual future to share awaiting ahead, as there was no more need in sacrificing anything on the altar of Yuzuru’s all-consuming ambition.

Yuzuru’s fingers clawed at his shoulders but Javier knew that he had _to let go_ sooner or later.

For better or for worse, the choice had already been made and, though, every fiber of his being was screaming in protest he kept on whispering under his breath one word to split his life in two.

_Adiós_

He is standing on one of the steps of Olympic podium, uproar of exalted public deafening.

_Adiós_

A medal has never felt heavier around his neck, pride and admiration of entire nation failing to fill the gaping hole inside his chest.

_Adiós_

A plane with its silvery wings gaining height fast, taking him away, out of Toronto — the city where his love was once found only to be lost forever.

_Adiós_

**

**Author's Note:**

> *Nunca — Never (span.)  
> **Por favor — Please (span.)  
> ***Adiós — Goodbye (span.)
> 
> **  
> Thank you for reading. Your feedback is appreciated.


End file.
